Hide and Seek
by puddle-of-lemonade
Summary: You said you didn’t want to think – so you’re not going to, okay?’ Ginny said. 'Come, we're going to dance.' Slight AU, GinnyHermione, threeshot
1. Chapter 1

**Hide and Seek**

She tipped the glass to the side slightly, watching the liquid teeter close to the edge. Then, with a sudden frown, Hermione sighed and took another sip, before placing it on the counter of the bar again. She glanced over her shoulder at the rest of the club, at the people milling beside her, asking for drinks, and at the mess of bodies dancing close in the dim lighting, the smoke-filled air, and the thudding music that vibrated in her chest.

When a man sitting across the room stared at her, she quickly looked back down at her drink, frustrated and angry at herself. Hermione didn't want to be here – she really didn't. The club was so, so different from her office at work in all ways possible – there she had quiet, there she could think . . .

_But that's why I'm here, isn't it?_

Hermione had to snort, smiling bitterly at her cocktail before downing it.

'Hey,' a voice drawled at her side, startling her a little. She turned to see the man who had been staring at her, leaning against the bar in a manner every fibre in her body deemed as arrogant. But it didn't compare to his smile, which made her want to both laugh and walk away in disgust. But she did neither. Maybe it was because she was tired of standing her ground almost constantly, of running, of always moving. Maybe . . .

'I couldn't help noticing you,' he continued, 'I mean, every guy in this place has-'

Hermione stopped herself from rolling her eyes.

'Oi, move over, buddy,' a red-headed girl said, elbowing her way between Hermione and the man.

'Excuse me - we're having a conversation here, lady,' the man said, an angry spark in his eyes. The girl looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. She chuckled, ordered her drink, then said amusedly:

'Didn't look like much of one, mate.'

Hermione couldn't hold back a smile, which the man caught. He scowled at her, then walked away with a tight 'all right'. The girl watched him go with a mocking smile, then turned to Hermione, her expression changed, unreadable. 'Well, I haven't seen you in a while, Hermione,' she said lightly.

'Ginny?' Hermione blurted out in surprise. She stared at the dark and thick make-up around the girl's eyes, her red lipstick, the tight dress and her casual smirk with wide eyes. What astounded her the most was the short red-hair that hung about her jaw. When had she cut it?

'The one and only,' Ginny answered with flourish, winking. 'Let's go to the balcony. We can't really talk here. Too loud.'

Hermione nodded, and followed Ginny across the club, not really believing her eyes. Could Ginny have changed this much? The way she walked and talked . . . it was like she just _knew_ that she had a lure that stemmed from her obvious self-confidence. They went through the balcony doorway and sat down at a table next to the railing. Ginny opened a cigarette packet and took one out, placing it between her red, red lips.

'Got a light?'

'Yeah,' Hermione said, cupping her hand against the wind and lit it for her.

'So . . .' Ginny blew out a cloud of smoke, watching her with strange dark eyes. 'It's been years, yeah? I'd say about four.'

'It's been five.'

Ginny shrugged, looking over the railing at the street below. 'Well, whatever, it's been a long time since you broke up with my brother and buried yourself in work. You haven't really surfaced, have you?' Ginny glanced at her, caught her look, then smiled. 'Thought so. Frankly, I'm surprised you're even here.'

Hermione frowned, then looked away, uncomfortable. 'I'm surprised _you're _here – I mean, a Muggle club?'

Blue eyes glittered at her. 'I found out a while back that Muggles know how to have some fun . . . Their nightclubs are truly marvellous, aren't they? So carnal.'

'Yes, they are,' Hermione said in a slightly pained voice that made the red-head laugh merrily behind her cigarette. For a long moment, Ginny merely stared at her unabashedly - and the more she did so, the more Hermione suddenly realised how beautiful she was.

How beautiful and threatening.

'So why are you here, Hermione Granger? The Department of Magical Law Enforcement not that riveting anymore?'

Hermione looked up at her, feeling tired, perhaps exhausted. Maybe Ginny saw it in her eyes, because she leaned in closer. 'I came here because I didn't want to think,' Hermione said impulsively, her mouth burning from the truth of it. It had been so long since anyone had asked her a personal question – it was always work, work, work . . . Work that made her, most times, sick from the injustice of it all.

'Hm . . .' a crooked grin widened on Ginny's face, 'the impossible has happened, ladies and gentlemen – Hermione Granger doesn't want to think! I never thought I be alive for this day. What, do solicitors not do it for you?'

'Ginny, please, just leave it alone.'

The red-haired girl gave out a slightly harsh laugh, full of disbelief. 'Well, there's got to be a reason why you abandoned all your old friends, and from what I hear, even your new ones. That's besides your colleagues, but I guess that one is out of necessity really.'

Hermione closed her eyes. 'I'm serious. Leave it alone.'

'Then let's go dance.'

She opened her eyes and frowned at Ginny. The girl threw her cigarette to the floor and crushed it under her heel, then opened her hand in invitation, palm upwards. There was a challenge in her eyes, a well-hidden anger and . . . something else. Hermione wasn't entirely sure what it was, but it made her hands tremble under the table nevertheless.

'Why?' Hermione asked. She bit her lip - she didn't want to say more.

Ginny shook her head and retorted, 'You said you didn't want to think – so you're not going to, okay?' She grabbed Hermione's hand and pulled her out of her chair. 'Come, we're going to dance.'

Dazedly, Hermione followed her back into the club, tugged along through crowds of people that got tighter towards the dance-floor. The music vibrated in her chest, shocking her heart momentarily, and her blood moved with the thundering bass in her ears. Ginny turned around and was pushed closer to Hermione, their chest touching, and then she started to move, to dance.

_Don't think._

Hermione stared into Ginny's eyes and followed her lead, pushing aside all her stunned thoughts of how things had changed, of how amazing the other girl smelt (so close, a perfume mixed with sweat and smoke, so very human suddenly), of how the thick tension of attraction had settle between them, swiftly and unforgiving . . . Instead, she let go a part of her mind that had always been controlled, and this freed her body, letting it become one with the beat, with the body dancing with hers.

She didn't know how long they danced. She could only remember the songs changing from one to another –and it all didn't feel real. She was in this smoke-filled world, in the heat of it, in the storm of energy that had to get out, out, _out_-

Then they were kissing, right in the middle of the dance-floor, flush against one another. Hermione couldn't say who had leaned in first, but she knew the feel of a smile against her lips. They stumbled off the dance-floor together to fall against a wall, always touching because Hermione has just remembered how addictive it could be. There were hands in her curly hair, at the small of her back, sending dizzying shivers down her body.

'So when did you turn out gay, Gin?' Hermione asked breathlessly between kisses.

Ginny leant forward and whispered in her ear, 'If you had stuck around, you would've been the first to find out.'

Hermione kissed her then, long and hard, because words couldn't suffice in that moment. She didn't want to think, to figure out what words she could attach to her feelings. Rather, she fell into the moment, giving herself up to sensation and elation and desire . . .

Just like Ginny had.

_Tomorrow's words can wait._


	2. Chapter 2

_Where am I?_

Hermione stared up at an unfamiliar ceiling, watching the fan up on it spin lazily around and around. Through the window's blinds, light shone in bands that stretched out across the ceiling. With every turn of the fan, the bands flickered and changed, and it almost mesmerised her. After a while, the sight dizzied her slightly, so she turned her head to the side, only to see something unexpected in the bed next to her.

_Ginny_, she thought.

Even the name left an ache in her chest, but the scene before her left her feeling . . . strange. Ginny lay curled up into herself, half covered by sheets, half not. Her pillow was pulled close by an arm and she hid her face in it, with the added protection of a curtain of short red hair. As Hermione followed a trail of faint freckles down Ginny's shoulder with her eyes, she was struck by a sudden longing to touch her.

But she didn't.

Hermione slipped off the bed and found her way to the adjacent bathroom. She closed the door with a soft _click_ and sat down on the bath's edge. She ran her hands through her hair, then rubbed her face tiredly. She stared at the floor, counted the tiles that covered a wall, till the dread and panic that had gripped her receded.

_Okay. I slept with Ginny._

A potentially awkward situation, she knew. But it didn't have to be. She had left Ginny's life before, and could easily do so again. She knew that once she walked through that door, things would go back to normal. It would be like they hadn't met up at all. Last night would just become a memory of another drunken mistake. One, with time, she'd be able to laugh at, but only to herself.

Hermione washed her face with water in the sink. When she turned off the tap and looked up, she saw herself in the mirror. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the large hickey on her neck just below her ear. She grimaced and looked away, though she couldn't help reaching up and touching it, her expression turning thoughtful.

She was still touching it when she opened the bathroom door and walked out. With a glance at the bed, she saw Ginny was still sleeping, so Hermione quietly started collecting her clothes scattered across the carpet. She found her wand in the kitchenette and returned to the bedroom for her near-forgotten heels, and it was then, when she was bending down to grab them, that she heard:

'Leaving without a word again?'

Hermione stiffened for a moment. But then she straightened, slowly turning her head towards Ginny, her eyes fiercely guarded. On the bed, Ginny lounged unabashedly, her back against the headboard. She had her head tilted back, a cigarette between her lips as she lit it. Hermione watched as she sucked in, then let out a cloud of smoke above her. The red-head looked at her, smirking.

'You know, I always thought you were like the sea,' Ginny said quietly.

'Why's that?'

'You were overwhelming – beautiful, yet dangerous at the same time. You had everything – drive, ability, ambition . . . but most of all, you had _passion_.'

'And now?'

Ginny shrugged, looking up at the ceiling that the dispersing smoke clung to. She smiled suddenly, but it held no joy, maybe sadness, but even that she was not sure of. And with that smile, Hermione knew that Ginny was laughing at herself, as if this was all one big bitter joke, and she didn't why the realisation hurt.

'You're like mist now, Hermione,' Ginny said. 'And you know what? I must be an idiot after all these years to think I have a chance of catching you.'

Hermione brushed a curl behind her ear with a hand, then asked, 'Why do you want to?'

'Because I can still hear the sea.'

xXx

Hermione stared expressionlessly down at her desk, at the parchments and pages littered all over, at the piles of reports left unopened, at the letters overflowing and falling out of their box in the corner. She frowned at the quills, the ink pots, the dusty shelves lining her walls, the worn carpet beneath her feet, then sighed tiredly.

All her efforts of the day had been focussed on not thinking, just _doing_. But every time she had had a moment to spare, her mind went straight back to how Ginny had looked, smelled and tasted like. Details would come back to her vividly, and the longing was not far behind it. It made her ache in an indefinable way.

Hermione stared down at her trembling hands. She had left, shut that door forever, but it sure didn't feel like it. She still knew what it was like to be in that room, that bed, kissing Ginny softly just because she could.

_Forget her_, she tried to tell herself again and again.

'Oi, Granger!' a voice called from behind her office door, startling her out her thoughts. 'Can I come in?'

'Y-Yeah, sure,' she said, then with a wave of her hand, the door swung open.

'You look a little pale, boss,' the man said as he stood in front of her desk, a report in hand. 'Heavy night?'

She shook her head distractedly. 'What have you got for me?'

The Auror handed over his report with an apologetic smile, and said, 'A little late, sorry, but complete as promised! I had to gloss over a section of the mission because I wasn't conscious at the time, but my partner said he'd finish it when he gets back from Cambodia, of all places. . .'

Hermione didn't concentrate on his chatter while she paged through his report, but when the tone of his voice became questioning, she glanced up at him. 'What was that?' she asked mildly.

'Uhm, boss, what's that on your neck?'

Hermione touched her neck gingerly, confusedly, then paled as she realised she had forgotten the hickey on her neck. As quickly as she had whitened, she reddened and covered the hickey with a hand. She looked down at her lap and muttered, 'N-Nothing.'

The Auror grinned. 'Sure,' he said, then winked. 'Nothing.'

After he left, Hermione found herself unable to move her hand. Her fingertips ghosted the bruised skin, and for a moment Hermione felt . . . this was as close as she'd get to the memories.

As close as she could allow herself to get.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione looked over her shoulder when she heard a loud knock on her apartment door. She frowned for a moment, then closed the file of reports on her lap and put it aside on the table. She walked slowly into the hallway, checking her wards all the while, then nearly startled when there was another round of knocking, louder, more insistent than before.

'I'm coming,' she called out as she unlocked her door, chains and spells and all.

Just as she was about to open it, Hermione looked down at her hand on the door-knob. Her expression became tight when she saw that she was trembling. Why was she being so suddenly . . . _hopeful_? Why was she wishing it was Ginny behind this door, and no-one else? Hermione knew she had burned her bridges there, and thoroughly at that.

But who else would seek her out like this? At her very home?

Hermione shook her head, then resolutely opened the door. But upon seeing who it was, Hermione gripped the door-knob tightly. She stood frozen for a long moment, unsure what to do. Ginny was leaning against the wall next to her door, her cheeks flushed, her eyes slightly unfocussed. Hermione stared at her, then her eyes fell down to the bottle of firewhiskey in the redhead's hand. Ginny grinned at her and gave a small wave.

'Hey,' she said, with a slight slur. Ginny waved the bottle around, using it to gesture at herself. 'Sorry about this. I think I'm a little sloshed.'

Hermione scowled at her. 'And what's that got to do with me?' she asked, annoyed. Ginny gave her an utterly solemn look that only drunks can manage. Right then, Hermione had the urge to roll her eyes and shut the door in Ginny's face. It would be funny to see her astonished face through the eye-hole, if anything.

'Well,' Ginny started, 'I'm certain that there's a high possibility that I'll pass out on your doorstep, so I thought I'd use that smidgeon of dignity I have left and-' She paused, blinked, then gathered her thoughts again. ' – and offer you a perfectly good solution to this problem. And that would be your couch by the way. Sorry.'

Ginny pointed, as if that would help. Hermione closed her eyes, then sighed tiredly. She moved to the side to let Ginny through, who smiled sheepishly as she passed. Hermione followed her into the main room, which acted as a lounge, a library and a kitchen all together. Ginny stared at the television with unabashed awe, then flicked the kettle on and off, giggling all the while. She peeked into the fridge with wonder, then proceeded to grab a glass from one of the cupboards.

At this Hermione gave her a look. 'I don't think you should have any more to drink . . .'

'Shut up. It's for you.'

Ginny sat down on the couch, then busied herself with opening the bottle of firewhiskey. After a few fumbling attempts, she poured some, and Hermione hid a wince at how heavy-handed she was. Protest was on the tip of her tongue when Ginny held the glass out to her, but when their eyes met, she saw that Ginny wasn't going to relent. _This is non-negotiable_, her eyes said.

So Hermione took it, then the first bitter sip, and Ginny was satisfied.

They sat in silence after that, as Hermione drank the firewhiskey slowly. She was on the edge of her seat of her favourite armchair while Ginny lounged across the couch. It struck Hermione how casual Ginny looked; her clothes simple, her feet bare, her hair in disarray, her face clear of make-up. It all made her look younger. It was so unlike before.

_Well, you can't get more casual than naked_, Hermione thought to herself, then bit back a chuckle.She gave her glass a glare, hoping the alcohol wasn't catching up to her yet, but she knew it was. Hermione glanced up when she felt Ginny's stare. She didn't know what to make of her expression; it had changed certainly from drunken, apologetic mirth, but to what she was having difficulty figuring out.

'I think I'm intoxicated enough for what I'm about to do,' Ginny said slowly, as if she were measuring each word. And suddenly Hermione knew. It was in her eyes. It was in the way Ginny was looking at her, determinedly, like she knew she shouldn't be hopeful, but was anyway. 'Okay. . .' Ginny said seriously, 'Hermione, I'm not about to let us end like this.'

As stony look stole over Hermione's face. 'I don't sense any measure of choice in that statement.'

Ginny looked amused at her reply. 'Of course you have choice. I'm just warning you that I'm going to convince you. And I'm going to do so brilliantly. So just relax - sit back.'

Hermione trailed a fingertip along the rim of her glass, then gave a small nod. Ginny ran a hand through her hair, and it was the first sign of nervousness she had shown. Hermione watched her, and a strange patience filled her because suddenly all she wanted to do was look at Ginny. She didn't mind waiting, because it gave her a moment to stare at Ginny's pale hands as she played with the edge of her sleeve, at the curve of her neck she remembered kissing and at those lips that were more soft than she had ever imagined.

'You know, as I got older, I realised that the world had blown love out of proportion in my mind.' Ginny clasped her hands together. They were trembling, Hermione noted absently. 'I realised that loving is as simple and necessary as breathing. And most people don't write books and stories and shit about breathing, right?'

'I see you're quite eloquent when you're drunk,' Hermione remarked dryly.

That got a momentary grin out of the redhead. 'Oi, shut up, okay? I'm not finished, pretty girl.' She chuckled when Hermione made a face at her, then carried on, 'Anyway, I realised that the love I had dreamed of as a child was impossible. It couldn't ever exist, even with the likes of Harry Potter.'

Hermione snorted. 'Your knight in shining armour, I presume.'

'Not anymore,' Ginny retorted with a smirk.

'I guess that's true,' Hermione replied, not able to hold back a smile. She tried not to get distracted remembering how it felt to have those hands on her skin, at the back of her neck, trailing her spine. 'You've taken a fancy to the damsel rather.'

Ginny winked at her. 'Damn right I have.'

Hermione knew it would be so easy to give in then. She could walk over to Ginny now and there'd be no question whether she was wanted or not. She could lean in and kiss her again, over and over, forgetting everything else for a little while. But even though she ached to touch her and the space between them felt almost tangible and much too far, Hermione knew deep down she needed more than that. She needed to know, to _understand_.

Even if it was just a little.

Hermione put her glass down on the coffee table between them. It landed with a small _clink_. She looked up and said, 'Ginny, I need to know what you want from me.'

'Straight to the point, huh?' Ginny sighed, then bit her lip thoughtfully. 'You know, I don't want an impossible love. I've realised that that my wants are pretty simple. I don't want much. Just a friend with benefits, really. Sorry to be blunt, but as you know, subtly was never my forte.'

'It's a Gryffindor thing,' Hermione said with a shrug. The corner of her mouth curved upwards, more with understanding of a casual truth than from anything amusing. She nodded to Ginny to continue.

'Hermione,' Ginny said, her voice gaining strength, 'I don't want huge proclamations and shows of 'love'. I just want someone to come home to. Someone to make love to. Someone who likes to drink, smoke and dance the night away. Well, I want you. I want you to be my lover, but most of all, I want you to be my friend again.' The small smile that she wore then was slightly abashed. 'Whether we stay together for a week or a year, I'm fine with whatever happens. I just can't leave things between us untried.'

Hermione sat back in her armchair, then rubbed her face with a hand. She could feel the heavy weight of expectation in the air and she had to look away, far from Ginny's eyes. Her mouth felt strangely full of words, all ready to come out at once, but she bit her lip to stop them coming out in a jumble. There was so much she could say, and there were so choices she could make in this moment. It scared her to hold this kind of power in her hands.

But she couldn't run away from this. She couldn't do that - not to her.

'I used to running away from responsibility,' Hermione said quietly, watching Ginny closely. 'Of course, not with work, but with my personal life, yes. It's become a habit ever since I left Ron. I know it isn't very courageous . . . but it's what I do. I left Ron because I didn't want what he wanted: a family. I didn't want that responsibility. Not after the war. I was too young. I wanted a lot more than that. So, when I found an engagement ring in his jacket pocket one day, I realised I didn't want him anymore. So I left.' She didn't know what to make of Ginny's expression, so she pressed on with an almost hopeless urge to explain herself. 'I know what I did was cruel - '

Ginny held up a hand to stop her, and Hermione closed her mouth, frowning. Ginny shook her head, looking slightly happy, slightly sad. 'It's okay. Really.' She gave Hermione a considering look, then said, 'Hermione, it looks to me like you beat yourself up for years for not wanting what everyone else said you should want. You thought something was wrong with you, right?'

Hermione nodded.

'Girl, you just wanted to shag women.'

Hermione couldn't help herself and gave out a loud laugh. When she saw Ginny's mischievous grin suddenly she couldn't stop the laughter, because there was something so wrong and so _right_ about this moment. She was wiping the tears from her eyes when Ginny walked over to her. Hands cupped her face and Ginny leaned down and kissed her. The kiss was soft and filled her with wonder.

She whispered in Ginny's ear, 'All right, let's try.'


End file.
